
Chef Thomas
A Ploughman's Salad
The old pub ploughman's, shaken loose from its board and laid across butter lettuce with a sharp mustard dressing, for the kind of lunch that feels like you've given yourself the afternoon off.
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Created by Chef Thomas
Slow-braised ham hock pulled into rough shreds, tossed with sweet peas, peppery watercress, and a mustard dressing that means business. A salad that earns the wait.
The first proper peas of the year arrived at the market last Saturday, still in the pod, slightly dusty, the kind you eat half of before they reach the kitchen. I knew what they were for before I'd paid for them.
A ham hock is a slow thing. You put it in a pot of water in the morning and forget about it for three hours, and when you come back the kitchen smells like a pub on a good day, smoky and savoury and promising. The meat falls from the bone in soft, ragged shreds. It doesn't ask for much. Peas. Some watercress for bite. A dressing with enough mustard to make your eyes water. That's the salad.
This is a late spring dish, the point in the year when you want something that still has substance but doesn't weigh you down. The ham does the heavy lifting. The peas bring sweetness. The watercress brings pepper. The dressing ties it all together with a sharpness that keeps you reaching back in. I wrote it down in the notebook last year: ham hock, peas, mustard, Saturday. Friends came. The bowl was empty before anyone asked for the recipe.
It's a good thing to put in front of people. Generous and unpretentious, the kind of plate where everyonehelps themselves and the conversation doesn't stop. We're only making dinner. But sometimes dinner is the best part of the evening.
Quantity
1, about 1kg
Quantity
1
halved
Quantity
2
Quantity
1 teaspoon
Quantity
300g
fresh or frozen
Quantity
2 large handfuls
tough stalks removed
Quantity
4-5
finely sliced
Quantity
small bunch
leaves roughly chopped
Quantity
small bunch
leaves torn
Quantity
2 tablespoons
Quantity
1 tablespoon
Quantity
1 teaspoon
Quantity
4 tablespoons
Quantity
to taste
Quantity
to taste
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| smoked ham hock | 1, about 1kg |
| onionhalved | 1 |
| bay leaves | 2 |
| black peppercorns | 1 teaspoon |
| peasfresh or frozen | 300g |
| watercresstough stalks removed | 2 large handfuls |
| spring onionsfinely sliced | 4-5 |
| flat-leaf parsleyleaves roughly chopped | small bunch |
| mintleaves torn | small bunch |
| English mustard | 2 tablespoons |
| cider vinegar | 1 tablespoon |
| runny honey | 1 teaspoon |
| good olive oil | 4 tablespoons |
| fine sea salt | to taste |
| black pepper | to taste |
Put the ham hock in a large pot and cover it with cold water. Bring to the boil, then drain and discard the water. This gets rid of the worst of the salt. Cover with fresh cold water again, add the halved onion, bay leaves, and peppercorns. Bring to a gentle simmer, not a rolling boil, just a few lazy bubbles breaking the surface. Put the lid on slightly ajar and leave it alone for three to three and a half hours. The kitchen will start to smell of something good and smoky and patient. When the meat pulls easily from the bone with no resistance at all, it's done.
Lift the hock out of the liquid and set it on a board to cool until you can handle it comfortably. Don't throw the cooking liquor away. Strain it and keep it in the fridge. It's a gift: the base of a pea soup, a broth for lentils, better than any stock cube you'll ever open. Pull the meat from the bone in rough shreds using two forks or your hands. Discard the skin, fat, and sinew, though if some of the fat is soft and melting, leave a little in. It has flavour. You want uneven, generous shreds, not neat pieces.
Bring a small pan of water to the boil. Add the peas and cook them briefly. Fresh peas from the pod want three or four minutes. Frozen peas, which are perfectly good here, want barely two. Drain them the moment they're tender and bright, and run cold water over them to stop the cooking. You want them sweet and green, not grey and soft.
In a small bowl or a jam jar, combine the English mustard, cider vinegar, and honey. Stir until smooth. Add the olive oil in a steady stream, whisking or shaking as you go. It should come together into something thick and golden, with a real kick from the mustard and a sharpness from the vinegar that rounds off at the end. Season with salt and pepper. Taste it on its own. It should be punchy enough to make you wince slightly, because the ham and peas will calm it down.
Tumble the shredded ham into a wide, shallow bowl. Scatter the peas, spring onions, parsley, and torn mint over the top. Toss it loosely with your hands so everything is mixed but not compressed. Spoon the dressing over and turn it through gently, just enough that everything is coated but the watercress hasn't been crushed. Pile the watercress on last, tucking it into the gaps so it sits in and around the ham rather than on top like an afterthought. A final grind of pepper. Carry it to the table as it is.
1 serving (about 250g)
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